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and important, as much so as the one of his own or the world
of May, He had an overpowering curiosity to know what it
was like, to know what she was like. But how was it possible,
he thought, when he could not even know about May, and
could only guess? May was a small woman with a mass of
blonde hair that seemed too heavy for her, as though she
carried it courageously, with an effort. ^>he had a gentle way
of speaking, and when she was pleased her glance would
brighten startlingly. In the spring she always seemed to be
interested in gardening and would put seeds in the ground
and would exclaim at the first tender shoots, but by the time
the warm weather had settled in earnest, she forgot the garden,
and the weeds might take it for all she noticed; in the fall she
would stand for hours alone in the withered side garden, or
walk about, wrapped in a sober, sweet meditation. She loved
him, and at night she fell asleep with her head on his arm.
And he loved her. Those things, and perhaps a thousand
things like them, were what he knew about May. But they
were not May, And if he could not penetrate to her world,
and could only guess, what could he know about Bunk
Trevelyan's wife, whom he had seen only two or three times
and whom he had never even touched with a finger?
He reached to take May by the hand. She slipped her
arm through the crook of his and walked close beside him.
The tobacco had only recently been cut. The reddish
field, marked accurately into the distance by the stobs of
stalk where the plants had been, looked peculiarly bare,
peculiarly at peace, under the rays of the last, long, level
light On the slight rise of ground at the far end of the
Seld where the barn was, a wagon had been abandoned. It
seemed to belong to the field, part of the impression of ful-
filment and repose. "It's a good crop," he said, as they
walked op the lift of ground toward the barn.
Sfee did not answer, but pressed his arm in acknowledg-
ment of the fact that he had spoken.
** We might even get a decent price, too," he went on, " for
« dumge, When I think that last year the best I got was